


Oaken Anniversary

by ChristinaS412



Series: I'll Take Your Love With Me When I Go [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Everyone Needs A Hug, Family Feels, Future Fic, Gen, Happy Ending, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Light Angst, Loss of Parent(s), Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-18 00:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21519151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristinaS412/pseuds/ChristinaS412
Summary: “Yeah, I’ve gathered that much, doesn’t explain the acorns though.”Sighing she gave up on pretending to listen to the stupid Septon, turning her attention to him. “An eightieth anniversary is called an oaken anniversary, stupid. Their tree is an oak tree. It’s something they’d celebrate.."
Relationships: Arya Stark & Gendry Waters, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: I'll Take Your Love With Me When I Go [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683232
Comments: 14
Kudos: 90





	Oaken Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> Part of an ongoing series (see Sunday Mornings and A Soft Epilogue) for more soft!Lord & Lady of Storms End fluff :) 
> 
> -recap for anyone that's new to the series: Arya never got on that boat, she rode to SE after s8e5. This is based on that story line.

It felt strange that morning, as the spray of seafoam pelted the cliffs behind them. The crowd that had gathered in the solemn hours before dusk had grown tenfold by the last light until their lanterns glittered like fallen stars along the countryside. _Fitting for the occasion_ , Lyarra thought as her fingers clenched around the pommel of her sword. Her parents had always held the hearts of their people. 

Their eightieth anniversary, not counting the years the two had traveled together during the wars. She had heard the stories about her parents all her life. How her mother had led the orphans of the watch with the ferocity of a direwolf. Or the way her father had grown up a smiths apprentice in King's Landing before the burning. She knew every tale uncle Hotpie and Anguy had ever told like the back of her hand. 

But those were myths, her parents were more than tall tales to her. She would never forget the times her father had scooped her up in one arm to show her the steel smelting in his forge, or the times her mother had lulled her to sleep when nightmares plagued her thoughts. Nor was she likely to forget the same stubborn fury that now flowed through her veins. 

“In the name of the old gods and the seven we have come here today to remember Lord Gendry Baratheon, an honest man, son of Robert Baratheon and his wife; Lady Arya Stark, Princess of the North and The Six Kingdoms, and Savior of the Long Night.” Distracted by her thoughts Lyarra nearly missed the Septons speech beneath the towering oak tree in the Godswood. Her uncle Davos had let it slip that it was her father who had planted the acorn the same night her mother agreed to marry him beneath the full moon. Though their witnesses had not understood the significance of the gesture at the time, the oak tree that sprouted soon outgrew everything else in the godswood. 

Only a plaque remained to commemorate the story of the married couple, nailed into the trunk of the tree. Inscribed it read, * _For those who chose the sea_ *. The last gift her father had made for her mother shortly before Arya passed away. It had made her mother laugh ruefully, “What can I say? I’ve always loved waters _”_. Earning an equally rare smile from her father.

Catching Cassana’s blue eyes above the crowd Lyarra did her best to swallow her rising nostalgia. _She missed them_ . They all did. But a piece of her couldn’t help but miss them _more_ . Her sisters Eddena and Cassana had taken over as Lady’s of the castle and wardens of the East. Robb had moved South to marry a dornish woman and raise a family of his own. The days of chasing stray cats and practicing along the beaches had long gone. Only Lyarra remained, holding onto her mother's sword - _her_ sword now, as if it would bring her back from the grave. 

_Anyone can die, but death isn’t the end of love_ , her mother had explained to her once when she was little. It was easier said than believed. _How could death not be the end? What came after?_

“Hey,” Wylas whispered, having found his way to her side through the onlookers. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she replied, though she found small comfort in his shoulder bumping against hers. At least she had him. Lyarra could hardly remember a time when he hadn’t been a part of their family. Between apprenticing for her father, and being a rigger on her mother's ship, the orphaned boy had become Lyarra’s closest friend and confident. 

“What’s up with all the acorns?” He wondered, too lost in his ale to keep his voice down as the Septon droned on. 

The question caught the attention of a few commoners, although in their defense nearly everything was more entertaining that listening to the septon drone on about the lives of her parents. “It’s their eightieth anniversary,” Lyarra deadpanned earning a snort from Wylas. 

“Yeah, I’ve gathered that much, doesn’t explain the acorns though.”

Sighing she gave up on pretending to listen to the stupid septon, turning her attention to him. “An eightieth anniversary is called an _oaken anniversary_ stupid. Their tree is an oak tree. It’s something they’d celebrate.. if they were here.” 

“‘S that why your sisters’ wearing acorns all over her dress?” he wondered, pointing towards the dias where Cassana stood wearing a ridiculous green dress adorned with acorns. Of course her sister would have a tailor recreate her mother's old clothes, it was a ridiculously vicious thought -an argument for another time, but it unnerved Lyarra all the same. 

Instead she ducked her head, choosing to stare at the grassy knolls trampled beneath their feet and bit her tongue. _If only I could leave here_ , she thought wishfully. Smell the salt of the sea instead of a thousand men crammed along the shoreline. Feel the heartbeat of the ocean against the bow of her ship to drown out the voice in her head. 

“I’m leaving,” Lyarra decided suddenly, leaving Wylas to catch up as she began to move through the crowd before she could second guess it. 

He sputtered, “What? Why?” as he handed his empty tankard off to some bloke, struggling to keep up with her in his surprise. 

“Because,” Lyarra replied, and leaving it at that. _Because I don’t want to be here. Because being here will never bring them back. Because if I stay here I’ll only be able to think of all the ways I wished they were still here. Because I’m tired of wishing._ The words died on her lips as she made her way down the narrow stone stairs cut into the cliffside and toward the ships docked along the shoreline. 

Only a few men and women hadn’t gone up for the ceremony, likely sellswords and apprentices who had never met her parents. All the better. A bag of gold dragons for each, and the promise of more if they sailed west with her, was all it took to convince the whole handful to man her ship. 

“Ly-,” Wylas looked skeptical as he followed her to the quarterdeck. “Are you sure?” 

_He’s looking out for you_ , Lyarra reminded herself, her gaze softening at his insistence. “She always told me she wanted to sail west of Westeros... and I took that dream from her...” Glancing back up at the shore where they had come from she felt the last of her doubt melt away. “I need to do this, for her.” 

Hesitating for a moment Wylas finally gave in with a nod before whistling at the men to lower the oars. At her questioning look he shook his head in amusement, “Your fathers’ ghost would kill me twice over if I let you go alone.” 

A piece of her wondered which of Wylas was the only one that had noticed her leave and cared to follow. But she already knew the answer. Even if Robb and her sisters wanted to follow, they had lives beyond their family. They had taken on the responsibilities she had never wanted, and they were good at it too. Far better than Lyarra ever had been at caring for castle, or settling down to have babes of their own. _No_ . That wasn’t her. _This was though_ . Standing at the wheel of her ship watching the whitecaps of the waves span out across the horizon. _For those who chose the sea_ . The words on her fathers’ plaque sent shivers down her spine and her heart swelled at the words. Somewhere, deep inside, there was a sad comfort in knowing her mother would’ve done the same as she had done now. _For your anniversary_ , Lyarra swore silently, imagining Arya could hear her, before reconsidering her wording. _For you_

**Author's Note:**

> I've literally had this in my drafts for two months x.x  
> So if you've enjoyed it, or want to see more from this series please feel free to leave a kudos and comment!  
> thank you for reading ^.^


End file.
